


the sweater curse

by an9e



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, Knitting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an9e/pseuds/an9e
Summary: Mrs. Coleman hums, “is that right?” Her face lifts in wonder, then drops in thought and confusion. All within a mere second. “Well, that just won’t do.”“Huh?”She shifts uncomfortably in the couch, tugging at the hem of her baby pink skirt, “Eiji, do you know about the sweater curse?”Eiji gulps, suddenly feeling his palms grow clammy. “The…sweater curse?”





	the sweater curse

**Author's Note:**

> I FINALLY FINISHED THIS.. i had this idea in my head for days and ive finally done it.
> 
> thank u to @redriotvevo on twitter for helping me push through w this...!!
> 
> i hope you like it and happy holidays!!<3

Eiji felt his teeth chatter for the third time that day.

It was only a few minutes past ten o’clock, but the snow hasn’t stopped since earlier in the morning, and the cold had already seeped into the apartment somehow. Luckily, Mrs. Coleman seemed to notice too— walking slowly into the living room, holding a tray with two mugs on it. He manages a small “thank you,” finally ripping his hands from inside each of his own sleeves.

It wasn’t unusual for Eiji to be at their neighbor’s at around this time. The first time he was asked to join brunch was a little awkward, but the company was welcome. Especially with the holidays rolling around, he’s been constantly getting invitations from “his fellow housewives”— as Ash would call them.

(Eiji didn’t mind.)

“I heard from the news—“ Mrs. Coleman takes a sip of her tea, savoring the taste of it before she continues— “that last night was the longest night of the year.” She watches the snow fall outside the huge windows, covering everything in a pure white blanket. Eiji hums in response. “That must be why it’s so cold,” her laugh echoes in the room.

The mug is warm in his hands, and he almost feels the cold melt off his skin. His neighbor already knew how he liked his tea— no sugar, but a decent amount of honey— because of all the times he’s been visiting; it was a small gesture he learned to appreciate. “But it is always cold in New York,” Eiji comments, and it’s true. He knew that New York was a cold place— he saw it in the movies— but being here and experiencing it himself? Well, _cold_ was an understatement.

“Is it not cold where you’re from?”

“Oh! Japan is cold in winter, but not as cold as here.”

“And snow?”

“We have snow sometimes.”

She takes another sip of her tea, “I see. I’ve never been to Japan, but it sounds lovely.” Once she puts down the mug, there’s a gentle smile on her face. “Do you have Christmas there as well, dear?”

Eiji grips his mug a little tighter, thinking of Christmas in Japan. All of the colorful lights cascading down the buildings and hung across streetlights, various gifts wrapped in red and golden foil, the huge tree found in the middle of most plazas. “It is more of, uh,” he thinks of the countless couples walking hand in hand, “a public holiday? Than for religion...” He’s not sure if he was right, or if that was even a good thing to say.

When Mrs. Coleman laughs, relief floods his chest. “That’s fine.” She looks at him for a second before reaching beside her, opening a drawer and taking out a little basket from the inside. “I made something for my husband this year,” she lifts a dark red bow tie from the basket, a single strand of yarn still attached to the end of one side and wrapped around one long, wooden needle.

Eiji thought old women knitting was just a myth, but he stood corrected.

“Wow, you made this?” he reaches out when the woman hands it to him with care, “this is amazing, Mrs. Coleman. I’m sure he will love it.” He gives it back, handling it as if he were handling a piece of treasure.

She caresses it for a moment, gently tugging the corners before returning it to it’s place. “Thank you, dear. How about you? Do you have anything for your, ah,” she struggles at this, and Eiji realizes immediately who she’s talking about. “Oh, no,” he lowers his head, “I did not think about it, actually.”

The old lady hums in thought from across the table. In another second her eyes begin to shine, “would you like to try knitting him something? I can teach you!”

Knitting something for Ash? Giving him a gift was already a challenge— it’s hard thinking up what to give someone who basically has, well, everything. On the other hand, would he even like something that Eiji made himself? He knows the blonde hates his cooking— he’s still not sure if he’s joking or not— but cooking is different from knitting. _Very_ different.

“I do not know anything about knitting...” he mumbles.

“Don’t worry, I said I can teach you.”

“Is- is it not too late for that?”

“Well, we can start now!”

Eiji realizes there’s no point in arguing with her, so he gives up. It’s not like he doesn’t want to give Ash a present either. If all goes well, maybe he might even bring a smile to that tired, pale, but beautiful face of his.

“Okay... what do you think we should make?”

 

* * *

 

 

At this point, Eiji’s probably found a new hobby.

He’s thankful that Ash has been going out more often lately— despite still being worried— but he admits that knitting is kinda relaxing. It gave him more time to work on his secret project without anxiously peering over his shoulder to make sure the other boy wasn’t looking.

It’s relaxing when his body takes over like he’s on autopilot; memorizing which needle goes in which loop, repeating over and over. As if he was just watching from a corner of the room instead of doing it himself. One night, he had served Ash burnt chicken and vegetables for dinner because he was so engrossed in knitting.

He remembers Ash scoffing, and then a serious question, “is something wrong?” Of course, Eiji simply answers “no” instead of “oh, I was just knitting you a Christmas gift! I hope you’ll like it!”

Ash eats it anyway.

It was _not_ relaxing when he snaps back to reality, and he finds that he’s forgotten what loop he’s on, or what he’s supposed to do next. He had lost count of how many times he’s started over, how many times he had to Google search the same question and click on the same site.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Eiji sighs, gripping— _strangling_ the already-ruined piece he was just working on.

He didn’t even notice the sound of the door unlocking, the subtle padding of feet, and the creak of the wooden floor of their apartment.

“Eiji?”

At this, he bolts up, quickly hiding the thread and needles underneath the couch pillows. “Ash! You are early today?” He bites the inside of his cheek.

“Yeah, finished stuff early today,” his voice is soft, testing the waters as he unwraps the grey scarf from his neck, “are you alri—“

“ _Ugh_ , Ash, I told you to take off your shoes before you come inside,” his hands drag on his face, exasperated, “I said this— I told you _so_ many times!”

“Oh, right, sorry—“

“Now I have to clean the floor again when I just did it—“

“Yeah, I said sorry already—“

“I do not understand why it’s so hard to—“

“Jesus Christ, Eiji, they’re just shoes!” Everything stops. Ash pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment, takes off his shoes and sets them by the doorway. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but there’s a growing pit in his stomach as he sits back down on the couch.

He feels Ash’s weight beside him soon after, a little farther than usual.

“Eiji,” Ash doesn’t look at him, “are you okay?”

Seconds pass by but it felt like hours; the ticking of the clock filling their entire space. He manages to swallow the lump in his throat. “Yes,” a pause, “yes, I’m okay. Just... tired, you know?”

“That’s really all?” Ash turns to him now, and Eiji rests his tanned hands on top of his cold ones. He nods tentatively.

“Yes. I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s fine. Sorry about the shoes, I can clean the floor if you want.”

“It’s okay, Ash.” The silence stretches, their fingers now intertwined. “Have you eaten?”

The blonde hums, feigns a yawn and slowly wraps his long arms around Eiji’s form. He freezes a little, pushing the pillow and yarn into the couch in hopes that it might go away. “Can we just go to sleep? I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” Eiji can’t see his face like this, buried in his chest, but he knows there’s a familiar blush making its way to his cheeks.

Ash is cute like this; endearing, even. When he would cling to Eiji in the gentlest ways, selfless and selfish at the same time. The blonde was never that good in expressing his feelings in words, but Eiji can tell. “ _I missed you,_ ” his words unspoken.

“Me too,” he caresses blonde hair, the younger boy leaning into his palm like a lap cat. “Let’s go to bed.”

They walk like that towards their bedroom— arms hugging waist, hands combing hair. He figures the knitting can wait.

 

* * *

 

 

“Eiji!” Mrs. Coleman pulls him in for a tight hug, “what a lovely surprise!”

“Merry Christmas Eve, ma’am,” his hand shakes a little from the basket’s weight. The cold didn’t help either; he’s not really sure why the air conditioning is still kept on despite the weather outside. “Oh, I told you— Mrs. Coleman is fine! Don’t be a stranger,” she ushers him in with a carefree hand, patting on the back of his wool sweater.

He sits down on his usual chair just across the window, watching the passersby doing whatever it is they do in winter mornings. “Here—” he watches his neighbor’s eyes widen— “it’s just a gift from me and, um,” he coughs, ignoring the slight blush tainting his cheeks. The box was a little bigger than his hands— wrapped neatly in beige, with tiny green Christmas trees decorating each side, topped up with a red silk ribbon.

She takes the present from Eiji, gently weighing it in her hands, “oh my, you didn’t have to.”

“It’s for welcoming me in your home all the time,” he scratches his cheek, a little shy, “and for all of the cookies, too.” The woman laughs at this, and sets it on the empty seat beside her. “Ah, I also wanted to show you—” he fishes for a familiar feeling of cloth and needles inside the basket— “I finished knitting!”

He whips out a maroon wool sweater with little white stripes decorating the sleeves and collar, too excited to care if it fell apart right then and there. Mrs. Coleman helped him mix different kinds of yarn together, and told him all about techniques that would make it easier for a beginner like him. For a first time, and a few retries, Eiji thinks he’s done pretty well. _Of course_ , he’s gonna be proud of it.

Mrs. Coleman claps excitedly, her face getting all scrunched up in her smile. “It’s amazing! I knew you could do it, boy,” she leans over to give his cheeks a pinch. Eiji only laughs, remembering his grandmother back home. “I’m sure your husband would love it.”

He sure hopes Ash would like it too—

Wait. _Husband?_

“S-sorry?”

“The blonde one— your husband, dear.” She said more as a matter of fact than a question— Eiji blushed at the thought.

“Ah, ma— sorry— Mrs. Coleman, um,” he coughs, “we are… we are not, uh, m-married…” his voice croaks at the end of his sentence, trying to keep it just above a whisper.

Mrs. Coleman hums, “is that right?” Her face lifts in wonder, then drops in thought and confusion. All within a mere second. “Well, that just won’t do.”

“Huh?”

She shifts uncomfortably in the couch, tugging at the hem of her baby pink skirt, “Eiji, do you know about the sweater curse?”

Eiji gulps, suddenly feeling his palms grow clammy. “The… sweater curse?”

 

* * *

 

  
Ash comes home early on Christmas night. He wrapped up everything he had to do for today, told the gang they can leave early too if they’d like. He even grabbed some takeout from Chang Dai. “ _Tell Eiji hi for me!_ ” Shorter yells out.

It’s not like Ash was looking forward to Christmas, no, he just thought that maybe spending it with someone special could be... _different_. Different from spending it alone, drinking at the bar, or sleeping it off like any other day.

He’s out of breath when the door clicks behind him, quickly juggling his shoes off and the plastic bag in his hands.

“Ash,” a low voice drifts from the living room, “welcome home.”

“Hey,” the blonde manages to keep his voice even, despite running a few blocks just to get home in time for dinner. He sits beside Eiji on the couch, feeling his warmth radiate towards him. It’s as if he wasn’t just in the cold at all. “I got us dinner. Shorter said hi.”

Dinner is more quiet than usual.

Often times, Eiji would tell him all about his day— no matter how mundane it was. He would tell him about a pigeon he saw outside the window, thought of giving it a name even though they’ll probably never see it again. How he changed up the brand of shampoo they use, so it smells better.

But Eiji doesn’t speak tonight.

In the midst of chopsticks and styrofoam boxes, Ash asks, “do you celebrate Christmas?”

“Hm? Oh, we do… sort of?” he laughs, embarrassed. He notices he’s only picking at his food. “Sort of? What d’you mean?” the squeak of the container sounds after he finishes his meal.

Eiji pouts in thought, “like… it is not as special as here.”

“Huh.” Ash gets up, heading towards the kitchen to get rid of what was once his Christmas dinner. Eiji snaps back to Earth then, his voice ripping the silence that just enveloped them, “Wait! Ash, don’t—”

“What’s this—”

Green eyes meet maroon cloth, sitting there at the bottom of their trash can. He reaches in with pale arms, feeling how soft it was despite it being where it was. Examining the sweater— he just realized what it was— it looked homemade, had some loose stitches here and there, but definitely gave off a warmth he knew well.

In the next second, Eiji had already snatched it from him— hugging it tightly. “Eiji? Is that yours? Why is it in the trash?”

“It’s… not mine,” he mumbles, avoiding Ash’s gaze.

“Whose is it?”

The silence that followed was the only answer he needed. He wasn’t an idiot, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. Besides, this is _Eiji_ — and he _knows_ Eiji.

Ash snatches it back from the older boy, quickly raising it up enough for him to try and reach. Keyword, _try_. “What’s wrong with it? Why didn’t you just give it to me?”

“No, Ash, give it back! Stop it, _give it back!_ ”

“What? No! It’s mine now.”

“Stop it, you can’t wear that!”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Eiji stops tip toeing, his grip tight on the hem of his own cream-colored sweater, “because of the sweater curse.”

Ash scoffs, and meets a glare. _Oops._

“What— What’s this _sweater curse?_ ” he raises his hands to make quotation marks in the air.

Eiji just groans. “Ugh, it’s when— Mrs. Coleman told me that if you knit a sweater,” he gestures to the sweater in Ash’s hands, “for someone you are not married to, you will break up.”

It takes a while for Ash to respond, the awkward silence met with Eiji’s blushing face, fumbling with his hands, and looking up at him with his big doe eyes for any sort of reaction.

What Eiji doesn’t expect is Ash immediately wearing the maroon abomination.

“What are you doing!? Didn’t I just tell you—”

“Do you really believe that?” he stops at the question, mouth agape. “Eiji, I don’t care if you knit me a thousand sweaters. I _will_ wear them and we’ll still be together, curse be damned.”

The dark-haired boy laughs now, all bubbly and warm. “You will look stupid.” Ash pulls him closer.

“Mm, don’t care.”

“So, do you like the sweater?”

“I do. You made it for me.” He probably is the luckiest guy in the world— he imagines Eiji knitting in their bedroom, thinking about him and _only_ him.

“Merry Christmas, Ash.”

He goes on his tiptoes again, warm hands gripping on the soft wool— almost as soft as the kiss they share.

“Merry Christmas, Eiji.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/qqnge)   
>  [bfish twitter](http://twitter.com/banananange)   
>  [tumblr](http://qqnge.tumblr.com/)


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